


Affection

by yeaka



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Sex, Double Penetration, M/M, PWP, Threesome - M/M/M, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-08 00:03:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11634738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Glorfindel returns to share in Erestor’s assistant.





	Affection

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ephers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephers/gifts).



> A/N: Fill for ephe’s “#18 Please for glorfindel/erestor/+1 (choose): ecthelion or lindir” request on [my tumblr](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/) [from this list](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/post/163120603835/prompt-list-4). 
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings, or The Silmarillion or any of their contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

There’s very little time for reading during the day, even when Glorfindel is gone on patrol with his guards, therefore unable to distract Erestor. Lindir would never be so precocious, and indeed he works nearly as hard as Erestor does, equally as busy. By the time the two of them have finished their daily routine of keeping Imladris smoothly running, both are exhausted, and Lindir’s asleep as soon as he’s hit the pillow. He remains curled up by Erestor’s side, head nearly in Erestor’s lap, while Erestor lights the candle at his nightstand and sets to reading. 

The book he bears is old, tattered, one of the few in the library he hasn’t yet catalogued himself—but he means to go through _all of them_ , and he will eventually. Lindir is constantly in awe of that. Perhaps when Lindir’s seen a few more centuries, he’ll be able to keep his eyes open late enough to utilize the night as Erestor does. In the meantime, he makes a pretty thing to have in bed, and Erestor absently strokes through Lindir’s hair as he reads.

He’s barely managed half a chapter when his door opens, causing his head to lift, but he doesn’t tense—it’s about time for Glorfindel’s return. Sure enough, the captain of the guards slips quietly into Erestor’s chambers, carefully closing the door again with a knowing smile for his lover. Somehow, even after a full day’s worth of hard riding from the western countryside, Glorfindel’s blue eyes sparkle with energy. Erestor braces himself for that trouble.

Glorfindel sheds what’s left of his armour as he makes his way over to the bed. He leaves the pieces where they fall, knowing Erestor’s dutiful assistant will collect them, though Erestor makes a mental note to make Glorfindel clean up first in the morning. By the time Glorfindel’s reached the bed, he wears only his riding trousers and tunic. He slips below the thick covers and shifts closer, having to stop at Lindir’s side, where he leans over to press a kiss against Erestor’s cheek. He pulls away only enough to purr into Erestor’s ear: “I see you have already replaced me.”

Erestor merely snorts, “He is hardly the same as you.”

“True,” Glorfindel clucks, his tongue now peeking out to trace the curved shell of Erestor’s tip. Erestor’s breath threatens to come quicker, but he refuses to let it show, and he deliberately doesn’t turn away. He remains in Glorfindel’s lewd grip as Glorfindel mewls across his skin, “But, now that I have returned, and we have our lovely little third right here...”

Erestor’s eyes are drawn to the movement of Glorfindel’s arm, disappearing under the blankets. Erestor has no doubt as to where they’ve gone. Lindir’s soft features twitch lightly in his sleep, but he doesn’t stir, not yet. The blankets just above him begin to ripple with Glorfindel’s caresses, and Erestor dryly answers, “I hope you are not plotting something untoward for my sweet lamb.”

Glorfindel’s pink grin stretches wide, not quite _feral_ yet but certainly too hungry for Lindir’s innocence. Glorfindel is golden himself, but he always returns from his patrols like a starving man. Erestor alone used to satiate him, to grant him one wild, tumultuous night of no restraint. But that was when they could afford to make the bed bang against the wall, because there was no one else asleep in it. 

The shifting blankets pull lower, and Glorfindel coos, “You know, it is quite cute, I think, how you protect your assistant... but we both know whose mind is dirtiest, my love, and I do not doubt that you spend many shifts eyeing him up like a scrumptious dessert, imagining all sorts of naughty things you might do with him.”

Erestor lifts one brow, expression cold. He has no intention of admitting just how many fantasies he has indeed entertained. Unlike Glorfindel, he doesn’t feel the need to drag his sins into reality. 

Lindir gasps suddenly, stretching taut, head tilting back and lips parted in a little ‘o.’ With an irritated sigh, Erestor lifts the covers, unsurprised to find Glorfindel’s hand between Lindir’s legs, cupping his pliant body. Lindir’s thin night robes have been rolled up his stomach, and Glorfindel’s hand rubs between his bare thighs, thumb pressed against the ripe mound between. Lindir’s eyes flutter open as his hips stutter forward, only for him to give an embarrassed little whine and bury his face in the pillows. 

Glorfindel gives him a fond laugh and sweeps the dark hair away from his neck, bending in to scatter it in kisses. Those light pecks soon become broad licks, and Lindir cries out, one hand flying to clutch Erestor’s own night robes for purchase. Glorfindel purrs right into Lindir’s ear, “Did you miss me, my songbird?” When Lindir moans and nods, he adds, “Then I think we should celebrate... perhaps by both of your handsome lovers taking you at once?”

Lindir’s eyes finally go wide, the sleep banished from them. Erestor closes his book, faced with incontrovertible proof that he won’t be finishing tonight, and he snaps simply: “No?”

Lindir twists to look up, brow knit together, while Glorfindel mock-pouts at him. “Really, Erestor, it is silly that we have not already done so—the Valar gave him two holes for a r—”

“For utterly different purposes,” Erestor interrupts. “Not to be both stretched and filled at once. He cannot handle that. Honestly, if this is what you think of while you are out left to your own devices, I may have to suggest to Lord Elrond that you are unfit for such duties.”

Lindir frowns, then loses the expression in another whimper as Glorfindel kneads him. Glorfindel’s other arm reaches beneath him, four fingers coming up to reach into his mouth—Lindir obediently takes them in despite Erestor’s order. While Lindir sucks the long digits, thoroughly wetting them, Glorfindel presses, “Indeed, I have given this much thought, and I find it hard to believe that in our many centuries together, you have never considered taking another with me. Now we have the perfect third, and he is young and malleable, sweet and ever-eager. He will accommodate us.”

“He should not have to,” Erestor insists, even as Glorfindel retracts his drenched hand to trail down Lindir’s body. Erestor knows exactly where it’s going. Sure enough, Lindir cries out a second later, arching forward and digging his fingers tighter into Erestor’s robes. Erestor continues to glare right over him; this is a conversation for Glorfindel. 

But before Glorfindel gets out his next words, Lindir mumbles a weak, “ _Please._ ” At first, Erestor thinks it only the usual begging for pleasure when stimulated, but then Lindir forces his dilated eyes up to Erestor’s, and he wets his lips, trying, “Erestor, please, I—ahh—I think I could—” His words are punctuated with the erotic noises Glorfindel’s hands drag out of him. His hips are no longer grinding forward, probably too confused on where to go—Erestor’s sure Glorfindel has him speared open on both ends. But fingers are one thing, and _making love_ is quite another. Glorfindel bends to suck Lindir’s neck while he works, and Lindir cries again, “Please, _ohhh_!”

For a moment, Erestor is silent, thinking, and wondering if he should deny this simply out of annoyance. He’s been with Glorfindel long enough to comfortably spite him—sometimes his willful lover needs a firm hand. But denying Lindir is more difficult. And Glorfindel is correct, unfortunately and near secretly, that Erestor’s mind is at least as dark, if not more so, than even Glorfindel’s perverted wants.

He watches Lindir squirm and sweat, and he does very much want to fill one end of Lindir completely. More so, he wants to feel that delicious slide alongside the longest, greatest lover he’s ever had. They’ve long since shared _everything_ , and another’s body, he supposes, had to happen eventually. He would’ve preferred it be with someone stronger, at least older, more experienced, but his songbird assistant is the one they chose, and Lindir’s allure is undeniable. Finally, Erestor lets out a withering sigh, conceding, “Very well.”

Glorfindel dons his too-pleasant smirk, but Lindir is already too far-gone to have much more reaction—he’s now a steady litany of gasps and moans. Glorfindel slickly offers, “Why don’t you take the front, then? I think I have his rear nearly wide enough to take me.” Lindir shudders at this, eyes falling closed, and he bites his bottom lip to chew it cutely. Erestor sets his book on the nightstand where his candle still burns, adding to the faint starlight through the balcony, and giving just enough flickering illumination to see the flush in Lindir’s cheeks. His fair skin always blushes easily, his heart worn on his sleeve. It’s clear now that Glorfindel’s overtaken him, and he would plead for anything that might lead to completion. 

Erestor shimmies down beneath the covers, hot beneath them, and finds one of Lindir’s slender legs already hooking over his. Erestor reaches down to hike it higher up, helping the angle, and he bunches his robes up with the other hand. He’s already mostly hard—his cock stirred the moment Glorfindel slipped through his door. He’s just particularly practiced at hiding it. Glorfindel looks like he knows it, and he leans over Lindir’s shoulder, ducking in to meet Erestor in a fierce kiss. There’s tongue out before he knows it, and Erestor sucks Glorfindel’s into his mouth, savouring it more than he means to; he _does_ miss Glorfindel on those patrols, no matter how long they’ve been together. Lindir is lovely, but he’s no replacement. No one is. Erestor has half a mind to turn the kiss into bruising bites, to mark Glorfindel up for the next time he might leave and need deep reminders scattered about his skin, but that’s for another night. Erestor contents himself with simply nipping at Glorfindel’s lips as he pulls away, then bestowing a much sweeter kiss on Lindir’s parted lips. Lindir can hardly seem to breathe him.

Lindir’s legs are already open for him, and when Erestor presses a hand against Lindir’s stomach, smoothing down the soft expanse, Glorfindel’s grip automatically falls away. Their fingers brush as they exchange positions, Erestor sliding beneath Glorfindel’s touch to explore Lindir’s bare flesh, right down to the leaking slit already dilating open. It’s warm and slick, twitching at each little touch, too tempting for Erestor not to rub. He knows Glorfindel’s hands haven’t gone far. Erestor mutters with his face pressed against Lindir’s burning forehead, “If we are to do this, you should enter first. This one will be easier.”

“Such a gentleman,” Glorfindel muses, but his grin says he agrees. 

He gives Lindir’s sloped shoulder a final kiss, then wraps a firm arm around his chest, holding him still. Lindir grits his teeth, even though Erestor pets his face and coos, “ _Relax_.”

Lindir obeys. Erestor knows he does, because he always does. Lindir opens his eyes enough to focus on Erestor’s, holding his gaze, while Glorfindel works behind him. Erestor doesn’t have to be able to see to know what’s happening—the second Glorfindel’s inside, Lindir screams like he always does, hands darting up to clutch at Erestor’s shoulders and head burying into the crook of Erestor’s throat. Erestor pets his brown hair and whispers soothing noises to him, while Glorfindel groans and pushes deeper.

For several minutes, Erestor exists in that comforting roll, waiting as Glorfindel moves and Lindir tries to take him. Glorfindel is long, thick, a little curved and plenty satisfying; Erestor knows the feeling of his cock well. But even with Glorfindel’s virility, he’s also a gentle lover, or at least is when needed, and Erestor’s sure he’s taking the proper time and care to enter Lindir at just the right pace. Lindir makes no protests. When his cries die into whimpers and his hips are squirming again, Erestor knows Glorfindel’s fully seated. Then Lindir starts to whine, and Erestor waits for him to be thrust hard into Erestor’s arms. 

He isn’t. As far as Erestor can tell, Glorfindel isn’t moving at all. Then Glorfindel sucks in a breath and swears, “Eru, Erestor—begin already.” Erestor lifts yet another brow, having thought he might wait until a few runs in for Lindir to be more loose, but Glorfindel mutters thickly, “Do it—I will not take him without you.”

“Please,” Lindir whines again. His channel is already pulsing around Erestor’s fingers, though Erestor has yet to enter him properly, is only stroking him and sliding between his folds. Lindir fixes Erestor with absolute desperation and begs, “ _Please!_ ”

So Erestor, again, takes mercy on him. 

Lining up with Lindir’s channel is somewhat easier than Glorfindel’s task, though Erestor spends a few moments beforehand just grinding his cock up and down the moist slit. He’s pleased that they have a lover responsible enough to always take the correct herbs—there will be no happy accidents from this. He can rub Lindir raw without any issues, and he fingers Lindir open as he does it, testing Lindir’s walls, though it’s clear Glorfindel already stretched him, and he’s soaking now. When Erestor finally pushes his tip at the entrance, it pops easily inside. 

Lindir cries out again, and Glorfindel moans, probably at the way Lindir clenches suddenly. Erestor grits his teeth to hiss and waits, letting Lindir adjust, then slowly begins to piston in and out, only the tiniest bit at a time. Lindir squeals at every thrust, and by the time Erestor is fully seated, there are tears in Lindir’s hazy eyes. 

Erestor thumbs them away, kissing Lindir’s forehead and praising, “You have done well, my songbird. I am impressed.” Lindir mewls but seems too weak for words.

Then he’s suddenly pounded into Erestor, and his channel clenches in surprise, his mouth screeching hoarsely, and Erestor grunts as his cock’s fed the most _exquisite_ pleasure. Lindir’s always been tight, tense, but when he squeezes like that, it makes Erestor sees stars. He knows exactly what caused it, too. Glorfindel drives another hard thrust, and it’s all Erestor can do to keep from being knocked off the bed. 

For the first few thrusts, Glorfindel guides it all, and Erestor’s merely drawn through it—he slides almost out of Lindir as Glorfindel pulls Lindir back, and then he’s swallowed up again as Glorfindel slams Lindir forward. Lindir is shaking, searing hot and breathing in great, uneven gulps, while Glorfindel paws at him and fucks him hard. Erestor waits to soak in his lover’s rhythm before he tries to match it, and then he drives Lindir back, loving the languid moan that Glorfindel gives. The stench of sex is already intoxicating, but the _noises_ are what really get to Erestor. He’s always loved both their voices. And Glorfindel’s in particular sounds best when it’s nearly raw, when his throat’s dry and deep. Lindir seems to be screaming himself hoarse, and soon there’s nothing left but scratchy whines. 

Erestor holds his tongue through most of it. He prides himself on his composure, and he knows that’s part of what turns Glorfindel on so much, part of what makes even Lindir want so badly to undress him. _Fucking_ Erestor is no easy thing to accomplish, nor even getting fucked by him, and seeing him undone is something Lindir will likely have to wait a few more decades to earn. Glorfindel now has that fiery look in his eyes that says he’d very much like to leap over their third and ravish Erestor down to nothing, but Erestor meets that stare challengingly and keeps them tethered to _this_. He fucks Lindir for all he’s worth, forgetting his ‘too innocent, too weak’ assessment of his assistant. Glorfindel’s gaze fuels him on. And when he hits certain spots, he could swear he can _feel_ Glorfindel’s cock thrust up beside him, throbbing through Lindir’s stifling body to reverberate against him. The thought of fucking someone _with Glorfindel_ is what ultimately undoes him. 

But Lindir meets his end first, tensing but too broken to scream anymore. Erestor can feel the tight clutch of Lindir’s inner walls and the burst of juices that bubble up around his cock, but he pounds Lindir right through it, now willing Glorfindel to the edge. He has to lean over Lindir’s shoulder to press that home. He catches Glorfindel in another ferocious kiss, and as soon as he sucks Glorfindel’s tongue, Glorfindel shudders and groans. He clutches Lindir hard as he finishes, Erestor sure of it—he knows Glorfindel better than any other in the world, perhaps even himself, and he knows when his lover’s reached release.

Erestor is the final hold out, but once his partners have both finished, he speeds himself to join them, bursting with his own luxurious cry and a hard thrust into Lindir’s perfect channel. Lindir twitches but doesn’t seem to have the strength for anything else. Erestor spills inside him, wanting to spare their sheets at least some mess, though he’s sure by now they’ve soiled them right down to the mattress. Lindir will also need a thorough wash, though Erestor thinks that might have to wait for the morning. Even through his orgasm, he ponders these last minute chores. That doesn’t at all diminish the glory of it. By the time he finally pulls his flagging cock free of Lindir’s body, he’s thoroughly satiated.

And he’s hardly surprised when Lindir passes right out, run ragged from a hard day of work and a harder round of sex. Glorfindel looks down at him fondly, then gives his sleeping face a chaste kiss. 

Erestor tosses a tired arm across him and mutters, “Now, if you touch him again, I shall have you thrown out into the hall.” Glorfindel only laughs, quiet enough not to stir their sleeping lover, although at this point, Erestor doubts even a horde of dwarves could wake Lindir. Erestor sighs, “We have overtaxed him. You should give us warning next time you wish to pull such a stunt.”

“But it was fun, no?” Glorfindel asks, and barely a second later, he’s sitting up and climbing out from under the covers, dick still hanging free of his trousers. He climbs right over Lindir’s body, having no shame, to emerge on Erestor’s other side, where there’s hardly any room left of the bed. Erestor rolls over to meet him, only mildly surprised when Glorfindel immediately goes in for a hard kiss. It’s much too arousing for what they just went through. But Glorfindel still nuzzles against his nose and purrs, “And while our sweet third might be spent, _I_ have love yet to give.”

Erestor groans. 

But he bears Glorfindel’s rutting, and too soon, he’s hard again, opening for Glorfindel’s fingers and glad to properly welcome his beloved partner home.


End file.
